


Ask.fm Minifics

by spire_cx



Category: Infinite (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-14
Updated: 2013-12-28
Packaged: 2018-01-06 13:43:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 2,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1107546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spire_cx/pseuds/spire_cx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five short fics written in response to prompts left on my old ask.fm.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In response to the prompt: "write a short drabble about yadong's life in the perfect, imperfect universe, after dongwoo's nipples have healed."

Hoya wakes Dongwoo with his mouth. On his shoulder, on his neck, on his chin, on his chest: running his lips over his skin, feeling him smooth and soft with sleep. Dongwoo groans awake; his hands fall against Hoya's back. He mumbles something incoherent and Hoya leans down and sucks at his chest, smearing saliva over his skin. Dongwoo's hand skitters over his shoulders, nails scraping. Hoya takes a nipple into his mouth and works it, back and forth, slowly, forcefully. He pulls on its ring with the tip of his tongue; pulls hard. Dongwoo gasps, moans, and comes awake.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In response to the prompt: "dongwoo in a lacy thong"

Hoya's trying to concentrate on adjective conjugation, he really is, but studying is proving more than a little difficult tonight. Behind him, Dongwoo is making a racket opening and sorting his mountain of unpacked fangifts—because clearly Hoya's study hour is the ideal time in which to do this. At the moment Dongwoo is trying on a box of socks and undergarments, one by infuriating one, which Hoya only knows because every thirty seconds Dongwoo is plodding past Hoya's desk to look at himself in the mirror in the hallway.

"How do they know how big I am?" Dongwoo wonders out loud. Out of the corner of his eye Hoya sees him crudely adjust the crotch of a pair of fluorescent orange boxer briefs. Hoya does not dignify his question with a response, and keeps his gaze glued to his textbook as Dongwoo turns around in circles, pulling up his shirt to check out his ass in the mirror.

After he lumbers back into the room, stocking feet thumping against the floor, there are a few blissful moments of silence in which Hoya dares to hope that Dongwoo's attention span has finally given up and moved on to bigger, better, quieter things. But of course, as always, the silence does not last long.

From behind him Hoya hears shifting, and crinkling, and finally, raucous laughter. Hiccuping and obnoxious and _loud_.

Hoya whirls around in his chair, ready to verbally smack Dongwoo upside the head—but when he sees what Dongwoo is wearing he seems to lose all ability to speak, his body and brain both suddenly frozen in place.

Dongwoo looks shocked, eyes wide and mouth open—and then he starts to laugh, doubling over and trying to hide behind his hands. "Don't look," he laughs, stomping his feet on the floor, "don't look!" But then, as if he's already forgotten the words that just left his own goddamn mouth, he strikes a pseudo-sexy pose, ass out, hands on hips, and oh god, they're _lace_ and it's _see-through_ and—

Hoya averts his gaze, putting a hand over his eyes. His cheeks feel as red as the offending garment itself. "What the fuck, hyung," he groans.

Dongwoo is still laughing, and there's the sound of his feet on the floor as he runs across the room, making for the open door and the mirror in the hall. To his great credit, Hoya only manages one peek out from under his hand—just in time to see Dongwoo wriggling in front of the mirror, ass completely bare, curves accentuated by scalloped red lace.

Infuriating, Hoya decides. This is infuriating. He doesn't deserve this. Nowhere in his contract was _sheer torture_ mentioned. He glares out from between his fingers at Dongwoo. This is entirely his fault.

So when he walks past, shuffling back into the room, Hoya does not hesitate.

He reaches out, grabs the elastic wedged between his asscheeks, and pulls.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In response to the prompt: "oblivious little myungsoo walking in on dongwoo sucking sunggyu's cock"

The room was a little dark, he thinks, mind racing. The room was dark and they were on the other side of the bed and Hoya's jacket was hanging on the bunk. Maybe the shadows were falling strangely; maybe he saw something that wasn't really there.

His heart is still racing. He tells himself he's probably just imagining the worst. Sungyeol always says he has an overactive imagination—maybe this is what he means. Yes, it must be his imagination, Myungsoo reasons, he must be imagining things, because why would they leave the door open if they were going to do something like... that?

Something like that.

Myungsoo buries his face in his hands and curses out loud, because all he has to do is think of the color of Dongwoo's lips and the shape of Sunggyu's cock under his sweatpants and his mind is jumping around from thought to thought like a stone skipping across water. Dongwoo on his knees, sucking Sunggyu off in the bathroom while the rest of them are asleep. Dongwoo on his back, one leg around Sunggyu's waist, bucking up against him as Sunggyu grinds down, rubbing the lengths of their cocks together through their clothes. Dongwoo on his hands and knees, naked, purring, moaning, letting Sunggyu do other things—and no, not only Sunggyu but other men too, men Myungsoo doesn't know, strange men, because surely if he does this with Sunggyu he's done it with other men too, hasn't he?

Myungsoo's throat has closed up; he can barely breathe. They're still in there, he thinks—they're still doing things to each other, still touching, still feeling each other. Maybe it's Sunggyu on his knees now; maybe they're on the floor and it's Sunggyu on his knees between Dongwoo's legs and he has his hands on Dongwoo's thighs and—

Myungsoo didn't know he had his finger in his mouth but he's biting on it now, teeth into knuckle, and he's thinking about all the times he's looked down at Dongwoo lying in bed, sleepy and looking up at him with dark and glassy eyes that seemed to want for something. He thinks about the curve of Dongwoo's body when he turns on his side and faces the wall, and he thinks about something Dongwoo said, once, when they were on their backs in the dark and talking, always talking, voices low. Dongwoo had told him about his oil paintings; Myungsoo had said he had no idea he painted.

"Well," Dongwoo had replied, "there's a lot about me you don't know."

Later, when Myungsoo finally comes, shuddering into his clenched fist, it's to that thought: that perhaps there's more that he doesn't know. That perhaps there are many other shadows in Dongwoo left to illuminate.

That perhaps this is only the tip of the iceberg.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In response to the prompt: "write a drabble about sunggyu and dongwoo grinding their crotches together while clothed"

They're up against a wall by the service elevator on the 4th floor: because Dongwoo couldn't wait and Sunggyu couldn't say no and Dongwoo had promised he'd be quick, he'd make it quick, so it's okay, they'd be okay, right? Dongwoo's on his tiptoes now, straining into the press of Sunggyu's hips: hands planted firmly on Sunggyu's ass, kneading him through his jeans and pulling him closer, harder, muscles shuddering with effort.

They're both looking down between their bodies, watching the bulges of their cocks move against each other, and Sunggyu can hear Dongwoo's voice near his ear—small, frustrated noises, the same sounds he makes when he's annoyed or angry, little growls and grunts like an angry kitten.

Kitten, Sunggyu thinks, "baby," he gasps, and Dongwoo moans, the sound muffled by his lower lip locked between his teeth. Dongwoo is flushed, hot, desperate to come; what would he be doing right now if Sunggyu weren't here? Maybe sitting in the practice room with his legs tightly crossed; maybe jerking off as quietly as he could in the restroom. Or maybe even propositioning someone else: one of their dance instructors, one of the interns in the office, one of the other members. One of the new trainees practicing on the ground floor; one of the fans waiting outside in the street.

Sunggyu gasps, he breathes deep, he smells the scent of Dongwoo's shampoo, the same shampoo he uses himself. His knees go weak.

"Come on," Dongwoo growls, squeezing Sunggyu's ass hard, fingertips digging into his flesh. "Come _on_."

Sunggyu grinds into him harder, faster, and Dongwoo lets his head fall back against the wall, eyes screwed shut, brow furrowed, teeth clenched.

"I'm gonna fuck you later," says Sunggyu, and it's not a question. Dongwoo looks at him, and his eyes are bright and dark.

"Oh yeah?" he says, voice breathy.

Sunggyu can only stare, imagining Dongwoo's body moving in the sheets with the force of his thrusts. The bed banging against the wall.

Dongwoo smirks. "I'd like to see you try."

Sunggyu laughs at that, puts his lips to Dongwoo's ear. "I bet you would."

Dongwoo's hands clench, he scrabbles at the backs of Sunggyu's thighs. He's quiet but Sunggyu can hear him in his head—the sounds he makes when Sunggyu fucks him, whining, demanding more.

Dongwoo looks down. He reaches between them and pulls on the cloth of his sweatpants, making clear the shape of his dick underneath. He runs the tips of his fingers down the side of Sunggyu's cock, and Sunggyu can feel his fingernails sharp and hard digging into his flesh.

Dongwoo groans and squeezes his eyes shut.

"What are you thinking about?" Sunggyu asks, letting his gaze wander over Dongwoo's face. His voice echoes down the hallway.

Dongwoo shakes his head, laughs. "Nothing," he says, "what are you thinking about?"

Sunggyu looks at him: his brows deeply furrowed, cheeks pink, lips wet and open.

"You."

Dongwoo laughs once, buries his face in Sunggyu's shoulder, and comes.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In response to the prompt: please write yadong.

Myungsoo hadn't actually been serious when he suggested Hoya get a dog. It was partly a joke, and partly a clumsy attempt to make conversation around the subject of Hoya's stagnant love life. Myungsoo knew that a pet wasn't _exactly_ what Hoya had in mind when he whined about being in desperate need of physical affection, but at this point it was all that was left to say about the situation.

Hoya had snorted at Myungsoo's "advice," and yet a week later he finds himself turning into the graveled driveway of the local animal shelter anyway. Why, he's not exactly sure. It's something subconscious, he thinks, it must be. Maybe he saw their ad in the paper today, with the grainy photos of kittens and puppies that needed homes. Maybe the neighbor's retriever was barking this morning, happy and alive in the cool dawn air. Or maybe he's really just that sad about returning home to an empty, silent house again tonight.

The shelter is a small, low building nestled behind a copse of willows at the end of a winding, narrow road. The newly-painted sign is bright and pretty, but the dog pens outside are empty and the building's windows are small and dark. The place looks deserted, and the only sounds are the songbirds twittering in the trees. Hoya pauses to look around, and, wary, almost gets back in the car—but he thinks of the alternative, of what's waiting for him, of going home empty-handed again, and decides to at least give it a try.

The shelter, as it turns out, is open, and inside it's warm and well-lit. There are posters, dog toys, chairs upholstered in paw-print fabric. At the center of the room there's a reception desk decorated in stuffed cats and dogs and other animal trinkets; hanging off the edge is a placard with the profile of a German Shepherd that reads "Who rescued who?"

The computer on the desk is off and there's no trace of the receptionist, but there's an open door in the far corner of the room. Hoya cranes to peer inside.

"Hello?" he calls.

"Oh! Sorry!" comes a man's voice from the room beyond. "I'm back here!"

Hoya walks to the door. In the other room he finds a black-haired man and a white, fluffy dog. The dog is sitting and staring at a treat the man is dangling above its head.

"Hi," Hoya says.

The man glances up at Hoya: once and then twice, a wide-eyed double-take. "Um. Hi," he says, frozen in place, staring.

And he keeps staring. He stares and stares and stares for a few long moments that feel like hours. But honestly, Hoya doesn't mind the staring—because the man is fucking gorgeous, and he finds himself staring right back.

Black hair, black eyes, sharp features and soft mouth and green shirtsleeves rolled up over bronze shoulders. He's short and young and pretty and _blushing_ , and he doesn't look away from Hoya even when the fluffy dog begins to whine.

"I was—" Hoya starts, but he doesn't know what to say anymore. What did he even come here for?

Even if he had a thought waiting, he wouldn't have been allowed to finish it. The dog's resolve finally breaks: it jumps up at the man's hand and snatches the treat from his fingers.

"Aish! Lily!" The man balls his hands into fists at his sides but makes no attempt to chastise the animal, who's now munching happily on her newly-won snack.

The man laughs and looks up into Hoya's eyes again. "This is Lily," he says, "and I'm Dongwoo."

He holds out his hand.

A dog, Hoya thinks as he takes Dongwoo's hand; a dog would definitely be nice.

But a boyfriend would be much better.


End file.
